The Curious Case of World Jumping
by Lucrezia-Farnese
Summary: A different intake into the infamous scenario of a 'girl falling into Middle-earth'. A young woman finds herself washed up on a strange beach, only to discover she is being hunted by both good and evil for the idea of designing the perfect weapon.Set-WOTR
1. Chapter 1

**Please read in advance:**

Developing a 'girl falls into Middle-earth' story was something I silently vowed never to do, yet then I thought... why not try to be different with this popular LOTR scenario. So here is my attempt at being somewhat different... I say good luck to myself, for it may prove unsuccessful!

Set **during **the WOTR in that wonderful realm known as Gondor. We start off in Dol Amroth – for there is nothing more exciting than a good ol' beach trip!

Warning on swear words in this chapter solely! - Sorry in advance to those who do not like it!

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><p><strong>...<strong>

Natural beauty is something rare in this rather industrious twenty-first century. That is what Victoria thought. It was why she loved taking small vacations out to the Pacific Islands. This time round, she was standing on the pristine sand of a tiny island in Fiji. The breeze was warm around her, and in the distance, she saw the stormy clouds brewing over from the humidity. She inhaled deeply, placing her hands on her hips, wearing short shorts over her bikini bottoms. Life was good.

Victoria splashed her way into the crystal blue water, driving in, resurfacing several meters away from the shoreline. She hovered for a while and then noticed a flash in the water, catching her immediate attention. Half buried in the sand below her, a gold ornament shone, twinkling up at her. She dipped under the water, turning upside down in order to get a better view at it. She extended her arm and touched it, so tempting, so dazzling to her eyes. That was when the water around her started swirling as if a cyclone had hit. She attempted to resurface, but the water bubbled away, compressing against her body. Everything was so tight; she could not move her arms or legs. Then, as if a bubble had been popped, the water pushed against her in every direction. She was pushed up to the surface, gasping for breath.

"What the fuck!" Victoria said, splashing around in the water. "What... the fuck!"

She was breathing heavily, her heart thumping against her chest. She swam as fast as she could to the shoreline, crawling the rest of the way once she had reached the shallows. There, she collapsed in a heap, her body still feeling the immense relief of not having water tightly pressed against it. She rolled onto her back, taking steady breaths. Opening her eyes, she noticed a large form of rocks in her peripheral vision. The island she had been on was small and round... no rocks.

Okay this was weird...

She sat up, pushing strands of dark, wet hair out of her face. "Where am I?" She twisted around, seeing less shiny sand leading up to grass and dirt with trees scattered in the distance. Standing up, she staggered away from the water; her legs were quite weak. She fell to her knees in the sand. Groaning, she fell onto her back, closing her eyes to block the sunlight. She remained there for a good while, recovering from the ordeal. Her breathing slowed back down, her legs regaining their strength. She had absolutely no idea what had happened; it occurred far too quickly. The only thing she was aware of was that she had nearly drowned.

Finding new strength within her, Victoria stood up, looking about. The sand was dirty, mixed with rocks, broken shells, and dirt. The air was no longer warm from the tropics, and Victoria had to fold her arms, shivering from the wind on her bare skin; she wore only a bikini top. In all honest truth, Victoria had absolutely no idea where she was; she was starting to panic. Her legs started to shake with coldness and anxiety; her eyes were darting in all directions, trying to find something – anything that looked familiar to her. Clouds started covering the sun as the breeze picked up, bringing a great mass of dark clouds rumbling into the sky from the horizon. She began walking up the beach towards the grassland, leading into a distant forest. There were no signs of civilisation anywhere, only nature.

Turning back to the ocean, Victoria scanned the horizon, trying to get a glimpse of an island. She had begun to think that she had actually lost consciousness under the water and floated out to another island... or somewhere!

"Over here!" Victoria turned to the voice that had shouted; she saw a man dressed rather poorly. He wore brown clothing, with pieces of torn cloth wrapped around his waist with a curved sword tucked into it.

Did she just see a sword? Her eyes widened as a thought loomed over her. Was he a bandit? Surely, that was highly unlikely. But the man's long, un brushed hair did not serve him justice.

"I found her!" he shouted behind him.

Victoria placed her left foot behind her, preparing to make a dart for it, her eyes wide with fear. "H-hello? Excuse me?"

"Woman!" he shouted, "stay where you are!"

Victoria took a step back, her heart starting to beat rapidly. Behind the man, another five appeared, all dressed in the same fashion, all wearing swords. Oh sweet mercy, she thought, continuing to step back.

"Charmin' lil' thing," another said, his smile showing missing teeth. "Unusual clothin', but I ain't complainin'!"

Victoria snapped her head down then back up, remembering she was wearing short shorts and a bikini top. Oh no... no, no! That was enough for her, she ran. Not that she was a very fast runner, but it beat staying back with those men.

"Aye!" she heard being shouted behind her. "Think you can out run us, aye?"

Victoria tried to run faster, however the inconvenience of wearing no shoes made her feet hurt from the rough terrain. She managed to make it to the tree line, though only several trees were scattered before her. She had a good two hundred meters to go before the density of the forest would be enough for her to hide.

"Help me!" she screamed frantically, looking behind her. Well, she had to give it to them – they were a determined bunch of men!

"Someone!" she continued to scream. "Help!"

Victoria saw a tee to her left, one that seemed climbable. She darted over to it, jumping up to catch the lowest branch. She used her feet to grab onto the trunk, heaving herself up, grabbing onto the next branch. She straddled the highest branch she could find that could support her weight, and looking down she was at least five meters high. The men reached her position and started laughing at her.

"Think you're safe up there, aye?" the leader said, unsheathing his sword. "Come down little missy, we won't hurt ya."

Victoria glared at him, and then snapped off a small branch above her, throwing it down at him. "Stay away!"

Her actions caused them to roar with laughter. The leader waved his sword up at her, attempting to cut her foot. She gasped as she managed to rise her foot high enough to avoid it. "Are you crazy?"

"I ain't the one up in a tree, little missy," he answered, making his way over to the lowest branch. "How about I come up there and join ya?"

"Oh no you don't!" she said, snapping another stick, hitting him on top of the head. "Fuck off!"

He stood up on the branch, making a grab for her foot. She swung both legs over, perching herself to one side. In her new position, she kicked him in the head. He grunted with pain, smiling at her. "You're gonna have to do better than that, little missy."

Knowing her situation was starting to get sticky, she caved. "You said you wouldn't hurt me."

"My orders say not to," he answered, grabbing her ankle. "Our master wants you alive and unharmed for him to deal with."

"Your... master?" she repeated, through narrowed eyes. "Where am I?"

"Gondor," he answered, tugging her ankle that caused her to lose balance and fall onto him. She screamed as they both fell out of the tree, hitting the ground.

"You stupid idiot!" she shouted, rolling off him. Two other men grabbed both her arms, heaving her up. "You said you weren't going to hurt me." Panic was rising again.

The leader stood up, not bothering to brush the dirt and leaves away. He grabbed her chin, squeezing it. "Your sufferin' is gonna be at the hands of my master, I say."

Her eyes widened with fear. "Please, I don't understand... where am I?"

"Gondor," he repeated.

"W-what? I have never heard of it."

He merely shrugged. "We are the Corsairs of Umbar – Gondor is our enemy."

"Then... then, but... I-I..."

"Quit ya stammerin'." She was led back the way they came, the ocean coming clearer with every few steps. This was a joke right? This seriously was not happening. She wished she could feign hallucination, but something made her feel this was acutely happening. This was reality, the bitterness of reality.

Once they were on the sand again, they took a left turn, heading through a roughly made path of trodden grass. Thunder erupted in the distance, lightning on the horizon. Victoria frowned, concerned and very cold.

"Can I please have something to put over me?"

The man to her right laughed. "An' cover that pretty body?"

Victoria rolled her eyes, starting to hate the male species. "Please?"

"I'll find ya somethin' once we return to camp."

Their camp – if one could call it that – was the dodgiest place she had seen in a long time. A small fire was lit in the centre, with blankets strewn around it. That was all that consisted of their so called 'camp'. She was pushed to the ground on one of the blankets and had a piece of cloth thrown at her. Holding it up, she saw it was a poorly stitched shirt, which was at least three times too big for her. Knowing she wasn't going to get anywhere with these men, she pulled the shirt over her and huddled up near the warm fire, her knees up against her chest. The thunder was coming closer, and the sky threatened to unleash buckets of rain at any moment. She saw the men were rummaging through packs, taking out pieces of meat – she tilted her head, not sure what it actually was. A piece of it was thrown at her as if she were a dog. Picking it up, she sniffed it. Yup, it was some form of meat, and no, she was _not_ going to eat it.

"So where is this master of yours?" she asked, trying to make sense of this whole situation.

They all pointed east, towards a dark form in the far away distance. A small patch of the sky was completely black, with flashes of orange appearing every now and then. "We have to go all that way?"

"You do," the leader answered. "We were sent ere' to capture you. The Haradrim will be taking you the rest of the way."

"Ummm... who?"

"The Haradrim will be meeting us across the river," he continued, pointing south.

"How did you know where to find me?" she asked, looking behind her.

"The Haradrim told us the Dark Lord knew where you would appear." He paused. "But they thought you were goin' to be a man."

Victoria was taken aback by that. "A-a man?"

"Yeh, they said, 'retrieve the man from the swellin' part of the sea at this location,'" he continued. "So we came ere' an waited for five days. Then you appeared." He grinned. "Nice lil' lass you are."

Victoria pursed her lips. Right... a man was supposed to appear. "Umm... do you know where I came from?"

"Far away," he replied, waving out into the distance. He shrugged. "You are supposed to be important."

Victoria frowned. Yeah right! "Maybe the man was supposed to be important."

The leader merely shrugged again. "Important weapon was all we were told."

"What?" she said with disbelief. "I'm not a weapon."

"It's what we were told."

"Okay, well does your master have a name?" She was wondering if these men were part of some terrorist group sent out to kidnap someone and accidently retrieved her. What a messed up situation she was in, she thought.

"He is known as the Dark Lord."

Victoria started laughing deeply. "Dark Lord? Come on!"

"Insultin' our master will earn ya' smack!"

Her laughter slowly died down. The air became unnaturally silent, and she noticed the men were listening intently, whispering to another in a language she could not interpret. Frowning, she looked about her, wondering what was going on. Suddenly, an arrow flew through the air, piercing the leader in the throat. Victoria screamed, flattening herself on the ground, covering the back of her head with her hands. The noises around her terrified her. Men were shouting, arrows whipped the air, loud thunderous thuds echoed in the ground. In fact, they were accompanied by a noise that only horses made. Then she heard the clanging of swords and men screaming in agony. She wanted to get up and run away, but her entire body was in such a state of shock and fear, she could not move.

The hooves of a horse sounded next to her, and she was nudged at the shoulder. Slowly, she lifted her head and saw a large, white stallion bent over her, sniffing the shirt she was wearing. The horse nudged her again, kneeling down beside her. She saw it had a finely made saddle on it, with black reins. The fighting had died down around her, but Victoria did not notice. She reached out and patted the horse on the nose.

"Nice horse, good horse. Don't bite me," she whimpered. "Nice horse."

She heard the clanking of metal as two large boots come into her vision next to the horse. Victoria look up and saw a man clad in armour looming over her. Did she just see armour... and a helmet? What... what? She frowned with anxiety as the man removed his helmet, revealing a young man with cropped black hair.

"You have nothing to fear," he said softly, kneeling down beside her. "What is your name?"

Victoria stared at him, dumbstruck. "Why are you dressed like that?"

He frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Why are you dressed like... like some knight out of a story?"

The man frowned. "This is not a story, my lady."

Victoria burst out a laugh. "Very well spotted... my man?"

It was his turn to laugh. "You appear to be unfamiliar with our terms."

"Obviously. Is it safe now? Where are those men... why did you attack them?"

He helped her sit up and she saw all seven men strewn across the ground, bloodied. Her eyes widened with a sickening feel. "Sweet Jesus! You killed them! That... that is so illegal."

"Killing corsairs in my father's realm is not illegal... what is your name?" he asked again.

"Victoria," she replied in complete awe of her surroundings.

"Well then, Lady Victoria, I am Prince Erchirion of Dol Amroth."

She snapped her head back to him, an eyebrow arched. "Prince Erch-ir-ion... of Dol A-mroth... what?" She stood up, noticing the horse followed her actions. Surrounding the camp, many other men dressed in the same armour as the prince were roaming around; pick pocketing the dead men, and cleaning up the mess. "They told me I was in Gondor."

Victoria turned back to Erchirion. "They said they were waiting for me... well actually they were waiting for a man, but I appeared instead."

"Why would they be waiting for you?" he asked, confusion strewn across his face.

"Apparently their 'master' whom they call – get this – the 'Dark Lord,' wanted me."

Erchirion found her wording highly amusing. "Lady Victoria, your way of speaking is quite unusual."

"Well I don't even know where I am!" she replied frustrated. "I have never heard of Gondor or Dol Amroth... they called themselves corsairs! Hell, they chased me up a tree!"

"They chased you up a tree," Erchirion replied, amused once more.

"Yes!" She placed her hands on her hips. Suddenly, a thought hit her. "What year is this?"

"Thirty-nineteen of the Third Age."

Victoria slowly lifted her head up, then down again. "Thirty-nineteen... beats twenty-twelve." She saw Erchirion's confusion. "Where I am from, it is the year twenty-twelve of the... twenty-first... century." Oh my god, she thought, where the hell was she?

Thunder boomed over them. Erchirion looked up, and then back at the strange woman before him. "I have many questions to ask of you, but they will have to wait now. You must return to my father's city."

"No."

The prince's eyebrows rose with surprise. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me how the hell this is possible! I want to go back to that oh so nice quaint island I had been on or... or I'm going to completely freak out on you."

Erchirion raised an eyebrow. "The only island for miles is Tolfalas. And I highly doubt you came from there; it is an outpost these days."

"I don't care," she replied. "I don't like it here... I wanna go home!" She walked past him, back towards the grass-trodden path.

Two large hands stopped her from going any further. "Let me go you freak!"

"Do not insult me when I am only trying to help," Erchirion replied, carrying her by the waist to his horse.

Victoria kicked her legs out at the air in front of her. "Put me down you so called prince. This is uncalled for physical contact!"

Erchirion rolled his eyes at his men, who looked on with bafflement. "My prince, you may have to restrain her," one said.

Erchirion nodded. "Fetch me some rope."

"Hey!" Victoria shouted. "No, don't... please!"

Erchirion placed her back on her feet, turning her round to face him. He placed his hands on her shoulders, staring at her intently. "As long as you promise me to cease this ridiculous behaviour!"

Victoria nodded mutely. "Good," he said quietly. "Now hold on firmly." Before she knew what was going on, he had lifted her up onto his horse, mounting behind her.

The men around them mounted their own steeds, placing themselves into formation behind their prince. "On my lead," he shouted at them, placing his horse into a canter.

Well this was fucked, Victoria thought to herself, not particularly enjoying the ride. The rode past the beach where she emerged from and had a moment's thought to jump from the horse and run back into the water. This all started with that tiny little shiny object she saw in the water. If luck proved on her side, it would still be there somewhere. Nobody was going to stop her from returning home. Nobody!

TBC

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><p><strong>AN:** Well, yeah that was hard. How do all these people do it? It's a challenge combining the two big areas of time, but enjoyable :)

Please note that this is NOT 'another world' necessarily. Let's call it a different timeline for Earth [Alternate Reality]. And no, Victoria is NOT a weapon herself - that is better explained later on.

So how did I go? I have a basic plot-line which will result with the biggest part of the story focused on the 'idea' that Victoria is a capable weapon with what she knows ;) hint hint!


	2. Chapter 2

**Forewarning** - After this chapter, the story is going to became a tad darker, but nothing that will exceed a T rating. The plot of this story will begin to emerge, but still, more will need to be explained :)

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What could one from another time say about the city of Dol Amroth? Big. Yup, Victoria thought just that. It was massive! Set high up on a peninsula overlooking the sea, she found it to be amazing. It had taken three long hours of horse riding to reach the city, and the prince did not even bother to stop for a rest. In fact, the only time that they finally stopped was when they reached the high city gates.

"Here," Erchirion said, unclipping his cloak and placing it around her. "Secure it around your body; it should cover most of your... exposed legs."

"Exposed legs," Victoria murmured sarcastically. "FYI, I like my exposed legs."

"And I am sure many of the men will appreciate them too," he replied, placing his arms around her once more to take the reins. "But you do not want to provoke unwanted attention."

Victoria mutely nodded.

The gates opened slowly with a loud creak. "Needs oil," she murmured.

"If you are willing to oil every large hinge on the gates, then I shall not prevent you," Erchirion replied, pacing his horse through the gates and into the city.

"Give me a big enough bucket of oil and I'll see how I go." Erchirion ignored her last remark, also avoiding all the curious eyes on him... or rather his passenger. "Why do they keep looking at me? Surely they have seen their prince riding through the streets with a woman with him."

Erchirion chuckled. "Actually, they find the idea of their prince's cloak wrapped around a fair lady rather intriguing." Victoria rolled her eyes.

Not that it got any better for her. Erchirion made sure she was as close to him as possible, but in a sense of security. He seemed to know something that she did not. Walking out of the stables, through the short cobbled pathways and up into the citadel, Victoria noticed that not one single person who walked by acknowledged her. They all bowed or showed respect to their prince, but not her.

"What is going on?" she hissed at him, tugging on his sleeve, which was showing between his armour.

He stopped walking, turning to her - their seemed to be hesitation in his face, a sense of pity towards her. "Your _unusual_ arrival has been expected."

Victoria frowned with deep confusion. "Wait, are you saying you knew I was going to show up here."

Erchirion gently pulled her by the arm. "I am not obliged to speak any further of the matter. Please, follow me."

They reached the citadel and were admitted into a great hall made of skeletal architecture; high pillars, banners, candles, arched windows, with a black and silver runner up the centre. At the other end of the hall, a black chair – or throne – was situated on a dais, with a middle-aged man sitting on it, talking to a younger gentleman. They approached the two of them, Erchirion bowing.

The man on the throne nodded his head, smiling, and then turning towards Victoria. Erchirion tapped her on the shoulder, his brows raised. "Show respect, my lady."

Victoria turned towards the older man and smiled. "Hello."

The young man next to the throne hid a grin, looking at Erchirion. The prince sighed. "You need to curtsey."

A wicked thought loomed into Victoria's mind. She frowned, pretending not to comprehend. "I don't know what you are talking about. What is a curtsey? Prince Erchirion, could you demonstrate one?"

"Please, Prince Erchirion," the man next to the throne said, alight with amusement, "show the young lady how to curtsey."

Erchirion stared at Victoria with dread, while she giggled away. The man on the throne placed his hand up to silence everyone. "Peace, my sons." He stood up, stepping down from the dais. "My son, is this her? I was informed it was to be a man."

"Father, this is Lady Victoria of..." Erchirion turned towards her. "What is your homeland called?"

"Uhhh... ummm... Fiji," she answered. Sure, it wasn't her native land, but it was the place where she disappeared from.

"Lady Victoria of Fiji," Erchirion continued, "may I introduce you to my father, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, and this is my younger brother, Prince Amrothos."

Victoria held out her hand towards Imrahil. "This is my way of respect. Take my hand."

Imrahil placed his hand in her's and Victoria shook them. "We call it shaking hands."

"Indeed," Imrahil replied, letting go. "Welcome to my city."

"Thanks."

"My lord," Erchirion muttered in her ear.

"What?" she asked, quite annoyed.

"Say 'my lord' after every speech you make."

Victoria pursed her lips, nodding. "Thanks, my lord."

Imrahil smiled. "Do you know why you were sent here?"

She shook her head. "Not a single clue... oh, my lord."

The elderly prince sighed, not contended. "You are in the realm known as Gondor. Belfalas, in which Dol Amroth is located in, is the fiefdom in which I rule. The Steward of Gondor is my brother by marriage, Lord Denethor." Imrahil offered his arm to Victoria. "Please, let us walk."

Victoria turned to Erchirion and shrugged when he gave her no inclination on what to do. She hooked her arm into Imrahil's and allowed him to lead her through an arched frame leading into a long corridor. "Many weeks ago, Lord Denethor sent us word that reports had been given to him that the Dark Lord – a villain who dwells in the neighbouring lands known as Mordor – had come in possession of a rare object which allowed him to trap people from another time into ours."

Victoria blinked hard, her mind boggled. "So this is not some crazy dream or hallucination?"

Imrahil chuckled. "I only wish it were. These are dark times, and the idea of achieving victory over our enemies is very alluring. I am not entirely sure how Lord Denethor retrieved this knowledge of the Dark Lord, but it is said that your time has more powerful weapons."

Imrahil stopped walking, leading her over to a large alcove that gave a view of a green landscape with mountains in the horizon. She was able to see the dark form the corsairs had pointed out to her. "Is that Mordor?" she asked, pointing.

"Indeed, it is," Imrahil replied. "I, myself did not believe in the possibility of another time parallel to ours." He sighed deeply. "Nevertheless, Lord Denethor is my liege, and I must obey him. He wanted me to catch you, and have you sent to Minas Tirith for further questioning."

"What does he want to know?"

"The rumour Lord Denethor believes... and as it seems, the Dark Lord knows of, is that your time has more efficient weapons."

"Okaaay," she said, stretching the word. "Um... listen; I don't know how our weapons work. Besides, how would this... this place even know of our existence and our weapons?"

Imrahil shook his head. "Lord Denethor would not give in to request of details. He says that the knowledge of your world's affairs will be our greatest advantage."

Victoria stared dumbly at the man. "Um, like I said before; I don't know squat about how guns and bombs... grenades... and all that other scary stuff works."

"Are these names of the weapons your people possess?"

"Yeah... yeah," she answered, feeling stupid to have said their names. "I'm not going to be of any use here. Let me go home, please."

"I am afraid I cannot allow that," Imrahil answered. "My orders are clear; retrieve you and have you on the next ship to Osgiliath. That is tomorrow at dawn."

"I still don't understand a lot." She folded her arms.

"All your remaining questions can be set before the steward of Gondor," Imrahil offered his arm again. "Come, I shall introduce you to my daughter, Princess Lothiriel. She will assist you in dressing more proper."

Victoria had forgotten she was still wearing Erchirion cloak. "Oh, right."

The first thing Victoria noticed about Lothiriel was that she was the image of her father - black hair, dark eyes, the same round chin. Victoria leaned back, taking her in. "You're pretty."

"I thank you, Lady Victoria," she replied, gesturing her into the bedchamber. "My father wishes you to be bathed, groomed, and dressed in the Gondorian fashion. My uncle, Lord Denethor will approve of nothing less."

Victoria unclipped Erchirion long cloak, throwing it over a chair. She tugged the corsair tunic off, revealing her bikini top. "Sweet Elbereth!" Lothiriel said through wide eyes. "Do the women of your time truly dress like that?"

Victoria nodded. "Well, when we go swimming, yes."

Lothiriel frowned, turning away towards the wardrobe. "You should be thankful my brother has common sense." She pulled out a long black dress, holding it up in front of her. "This shall be your new gown."

Victoria's mouth dropped open, her hands on her hips. "You do not expect me to wear that!"

Lothiriel frowned, looking down at the gown. "I do not see what could be wrong?"

"It's so... old."

"This is the latest fashion!" Lothiriel insisted. "It is a very beautiful gown; seamed with silver threads."

"I don't care if it had gold threads, I ain't wearing it!" Victoria stormed out of the bedchamber, slammed the antechamber door open, causing a loud bang to erupt in the echoing corridor. Damn these native people of this freaky world! She thought, heading left. A woman passed her by, gasping with shock at what Victoria was wearing. Victoria growled, quickening her pace. She found an arched window showing the ocean. She leaned out, trying to find the beach.

"What are you doing?" Erchirion asked from behind.

Victoria spun around. "Trying to find my way home."

Erchirion's gaze dropped to her chest, hovering there for a moment. Victoria rolled her eyes, once more placing her hands on her hips. "Enjoying the view?"

Erchirion looked back up. "You should not be walking around in such a manner!" He grabbed her by the arm and led her back to his sister's rooms.

"There you are!" Lothiriel said, coming into the corridor. "I was going to call for the guards!"

"Am I under arrest?" Victoria asked.

"No, but the guards would have been sent to retrieve you." Lothiriel pointed at the bikini top. "What you are wearing is highly inappropriate! Please, go into the bedchamber." Lothiriel turned on Erchirion. "Brother, go before you get any ideas!"

"Trust me, those ideas have already loomed," he replied, exiting the room.

Lothiriel entered the bedchamber, grabbing Victoria by the arm. "You have to understand our ways! You cannot be seen in the outfit you are wearing. It quite indecent!"

"Okay, okay – I understand!" Victoria yelled, over everything. "Just, do whatever. I don't care now."

Lothiriel frowned. "Well then, let us have you washed and ready for your journey."

"Is that a corset?" Victoria asked after bathing, noticing all the garments lay neatly on the bed.

Lothiriel nodded.

"Kinky," she said, feeling its texture. Lothiriel frowned.

"Ouch!" Victoria said holding onto her stomach as the corset was tightened. "It hurts!"

"Hold still," Lothiriel replied, assisting her maid. "It has to be tight."

"This tight?" she gasped, coughing. She already had a long, thin white dress over her, something they called a chemise. The corset came over it, and next were the knee high, white stockings. Lothiriel gently picked up the black gown, handing it to her maid. Victoria moaned, annoyed. She did not mind long dresses, but this one had long sleeves – long sleeves! After the gown had been tightened to the point it was glued to her body, the princess and her maid hummed over what size shoes would fit her. Victoria walked over to the long mirror – she looked so strange! That and the gown made her feel hot and flustered. She had never worn such tight clothing before.

"These should fit you," Lothiriel said, handing Victoria a pair of black shoes. "After that, we will fix your hair."

So looking forward to it, Victoria thought, slipping the shoes on and doing up the buckles. She then sat at a dresser, while the maid combed her hair until every knot was removed. "Your hair is so short," she remarked, noticing it fell only past her shoulders.

"Is that going to be a problem?" Victoria asked.

"Not at all," Lothiriel replied cheerfully. She opened a drawer and took out a thin, silver circlet. "Put this on her, and then braid her hair." The princess placed a pair of silver earrings in front of her guest. "They will suit your gown superbly."

Once Victoria was completely groomed to the Gondorian standards, Lothiriel had her stand in front of the mirror once more. "You look charming."

Victoria felt a lump in her throat. She looked so different! She knelt down on the floor and cried. Lothiriel wrapped her arms around her guest, offering comfort.

"Do not weep," Lothiriel hushed. "None of this is your fault."

"I don't like it here," Victoria said, sobbing.

"Our ways are very different," Lothiriel commented. "I must be frightening."

Victoria nodded. "Please, will you help me?"

"What do you want?"

"Help me get back to the beach; I know if I go there I can find my way home," she answered.

Lothiriel sadly shook her head. "You cannot ask that of me, for I cannot grant you your wish. Perhaps Erchirion may help you. He knows where you were found."

Victoria nodded, wiping her face. "Where can I find him?"

Lothiriel helped her stand up. "I will walk with you."

The prince's room were located not far from his sister's. With her, Victoria had his cloak folded over her arm. "I can go in alone."

Lothiriel shook her head. "That is against protocol."

"Oh, to hell with protocol!" Victoria snapped, forcing the door open, closing it before Lothiriel had a chance to reply.

The antechamber was empty, silent. But she heard footsteps approaching from the door on the other side of the room. Erchirion appeared.

Victoria walked over to him, shoving his cloak into his arms. "Thanks for loaning it."

"You are welcome," he replied, placing it on the table. "You shouldn't..."

"Enough!" Victoria said aloud. "Take me back to the beach."

"I cannot."

"Cannot or will not?" she asked.

"Our orders are to have you sent to Minas Tirith," he replied, moving around the table.

"But this isn't fair! I didn't want any of this, and I don't know anything!" she insisted. "Please!"

Erchirion sighed. "Lady Victoria, I cannot help you!"

Her shoulders slumped, quite defeated. "Then what should I do?"

"I advise that you rest," he answered. "Sleep, relax, and at dawn my brother, Amrothos will escort you to Minas Tirith."

"This isn't fair."

"Perhaps not," he replied. "But at least we were able to get to you before the corsairs left Belfalas. Trust me; they would not have treated you as warmly as we have done."

Victoria closed her eyes, nodding. Erchirion smiled, taking her in. "My sister did I fine job; you look very beautiful."

Victoria suppressed to laugh. "If you say so. I should probably go before they arrest me for being in your rooms."

He laughed. "We are not that strict."

"Yeah... sure!"

Leaving his rooms, Lothiriel led her silently to the bedchamber that was to be Victoria's for one night. "If you need anything, no not hesitate to ask for it."

Victoria was left alone in the rather large room. It had a poster bed, chests, and two chairs. The walls had hangings of tapestries depicting mountains, fields, and birds. They were all things someone would find in a museum. Sighing, she moved over to the bed, flopping onto her stomach, resting her head on folded arms. These people were going to try to extract information from her; information she did not have. Sure, if they asked her, she could attempt to draw a handgun, but that was all the valuable information she could give. What made her all the more curious, was how anyone or anything in this place knew about her time. Was this time travel? Had someone from this time travelled to the future and saw all the possibilities? Surely some government would have found them... maybe they knew about this. Had she purely been in the wrong place at the wrong time? That was the only solution she had.


	3. Chapter 3

_Victoria ran; she ran through the shrubs, long grass, dodging the dozens of trees that lay in front of her. Hell, she did not know what else to do! These people were crazy, and wouldn't listen to reason. So she ran, hoping to get as far away as possible. Looking behind her, she hoped not to see those who would most likely be following her by now. Big mistake – not watching where she was going, she tripped on a fallen branch, landing flat on the forest floor. Coming to her senses, she blinked several times before seeing a pair of large boots standing in front of her. _

**Five days earlier**

The trip to Osgiliath had been awful! The ship she was placed on rocked so much that she was constantly sick. Nor did any of the men that accompanied her offer her much comfort. Prince Amrothos had been polite enough, making sure she had plenty of fresh food and water, and on occasion offering some sort of disgusting drink to soothe her stomach – it didn't help, nor did the prince truly believe her when she said so.

Arriving in Osgiliath, Victoria walked down the plank and fell to her knees. The trip by water had made her legs accustomed to the constant moving of the ship, that her legs became wobbly as she came to land. Prince Amrothos assisted her to stand up, keeping an arm around her back to keep her balanced. That was when Victoria noticed that the city, which lay before her, was in complete ruins. The city of Osgiliath was made out of a grey-like stone; it was now covered in moss, grime, and mould. The shallow ends of the river had large structures of the city peeking out of the water, and in the distance, Victoria saw the ruins of what appeared to have once been a bridge.

"What happened here?" she asked the prince.

"Not long ago, Mordor attacked the city," Amrothos answered.

"Attacked," Victoria replied, feeling nervous. "W-we... we are safe here, right?"

"The forces of Minas Tirith were victorious," the prince replied.

That didn't really answer her question, but Victoria had come to notice that this prince was a man of small talk, or at least around her. She had seen him laughing and talking amongst the other members of the journey. Maybe he didn't like her, she thought, giving a mental shrug.

From Osgiliath, she saw in the distance a large city built in front of a Mountain Range. Looking from the bottom of the city, she saw it curved all the way to the top, with a large, narrow tower pointing towards the sky. Victoria was speechless by such a spectacle of a city. Her mouth dropped open, her face frowning with amazement. "Oh... my... god!" she whispered in astonishment that such building capability was possible for these people.

"My brother informed me that you cannot ride," Amrothos said, snapping her back to reality.

"Horse riding is not a common hobby from my time," Victoria replied, turning back to look at the city. It was so pretty!

"Then you shall have to ride with me," Amrothos answered, coming into her line of vision.

Victoria warily rubbed her eyes. "Okay... whatever pleases you." The fact was she hated horse riding. It made her muscles ache, and the bumpiness caused her head to hurt.

They received the same reaction from the people inside Minas Tirith as they had done in Dol Amroth. Some of the people would follow them until they reached a large gate; they passed through these gates at least four times... she had lost count after a while. Everything was constructed out of white stone, and banners of black and silver fluttered in the wind. Very medieval, Victoria thought.

Prince Amrothos halted his horse before a ramp leading into another section of the city. He assisted Victoria down, making sure she looked half-decent by brushing down her gown.

"You know, my mother did this to me on my first day of school," Victoria muttered, smoothing her braided hair. "Why are you making such a fuss?"

Amrothos sighed. "Lady Victoria, you are about to be presented to the Steward of Gondor. He is a very... particular man."

Victoria arched an eyebrow. "Particular, aye?"

"Quite," Amrothos mumbled, taking one last look at her and nodding with approval. "Come."

Up the ramp they went, and emerged between two large, white statues facing a rather huge building. Two guards stood in front of the statues and saluted the prince. Amrothos nodded to each man, turning to Victoria, he held out his hand. "You must place your hand over mine."

Victoria slowly placed her fingers over his hand, gently gripping. "I feel so important."

Amrothos smiled as they started walking. "Are you not important from your time?"

"Define important," Victoria answered. "There, I was just your average day girl; university degree, working by day; socialising by night."

"Perhaps one day, when the time is spare, you may indulge me about your previous life."

Victoria frowned at that. _Previous life. _Did this man think she was not ever going to return home? Well he had something coming to him!

"Why is that tree dead?" she asked, pointing to the old tree with her spare hand.

"Do not point," Amrothos hissed, leaning over her to slap her hand down. "That tree is a very important symbol to Gondor."

"Yeah, I ain't gonna both ask for an explanation."

They reached the other side of the courtyard and ascended white stairs that led to a high, black door. Again, two guards saluted the prince, and then opened the great doors. "Wow," Victoria stated, seeing the great hall that lay inside. "Your people sure know how to build em'."

Amrothos merely frowned at her wording – something everyone seemed to do, she observed. Victoria kept her fingers on Amrothos' hand as he led her up the hall to an elderly man sitting on a black throne beneath a tall, white throne set high up. The man rose from his seat, smiling with a sense of relief.

"Prince Amrothos," he said, stepping down from the dais, "I offer you my thanks and gratitude for escorting this most important guest."

Amrothos removed his hand from Victoria's grasp and bowed. "Lord Uncle, it is my honour to serve you." He rose, and then gently picked up Victoria's hand, bringing her forward. "My lord, may I present to you the Lady Victoria of Fiji."

Victoria suppressed a laugh at his introduction to her, causing a squeak to leave her mouth. Amrothos and the elderly man purely looked at her. "Lady Victoria," the man said, stepping towards her, "I am Lord Denethor, Steward of Gondor." He held out his hand to her. A great ring with a black stone was situated on his middle finger.

Victoria leaned over his hand, getting a better view of it. "Nice ring; bit on the heavy side for me – hey! Look, there is a little white symbol on it!"

Denethor snapped his hand away from her, frowning. He turned to Amrothos. "Have you not informed this lady of our customs?"

Amrothos glared at Victoria, shaking his head with annoyance. "My lord, the lady has been quite... difficult to tame in our ways."

"Tame," Victoria repeated. "I ain't no animal! Well, actually that is an understatement. Human beings are actually animals in nature... except we have evolved so much that we are now the most dominant species so far..." She stopped speaking when she noticed both men were just staring at her with blank expressions. "What?"

"Your knowledge seems vast, Lady Victoria," Denethor remarked, eagerness glinting in his eyes.

"Well... yeah... in that field," Victoria stuttered. "I studied biology at university."

Denethor nodded and returned to his throne, placing a white rod across his lap. "Prince Amrothos, you are relieved of your duty. You may retire to your family's lodgings on the sixth level."

Amrothos bowed again, and then turned to Victoria. "It was a pleasure meeting you, my lady."

"Bye," Victoria said, waving. Again – as usual – Amrothos just frowned with bafflement.

Once he was gone, Denethor spoke again, "I have several questions I must ask of you, my lady."

Victoria nodded, holding her hands in front of her.

"Firstly, how old are you?"

"Twenty-four," she answered seriously. "How old are you?"

"I am not the one being questioned," Denethor replied sternly. "Secondly, how did you come to these lands?"

"Now that is quite an interesting question," she started. "Matter of fact, I don't even know if I can properly answer that. I was swimming at a beach in Fiji when I saw this shiny object... or thing in the sand at the bottom of the water. So I swam down to have a look, and when I touched it, well I thought I was going to drown! When I was finally able to resurface, I was on an alien beach in a time that should no longer exist."

Denethor nodded, remaining silent for several moments. "Your story is most intriguing, but I knew of your arrival."

"How?"

"I have my sources," he answered, smiling out into the distance. "The fact is it was not my people who laid the trap for you; it was the Dark Lord who dwells in Mordor."

"Yeah, I have already heard about him," she replied, but refrained from saying 'I still find it highly amusing your people refer to him as the Dark Lord.'

Denethor stood up again and started pacing. "The Dark Lord had a plan set out. Somehow he discovered another time parallel to this world; a time which appears to be far more advanced than ours." Denethor turned to Victoria. "A time whose people have far more superior weaponry."

"Ohhhhh, so _that's_ why I am here. Just because I come from a place where we have better weapons, it doesn't mean that I know everything about them. Only certain people do."

"You were sent here for a reason," Denethor insisted. "It was you the trap caught, and the fact your name is Victoria... well one can assume it is derived from the word 'victory, victorious.' Your knowledge will lead my men to victory!"

"I don't have the knowledge you seek!" Victoria shouted with frustration. "I have already been through this with that other lord from Dol... Dol Amroth!"

Denethor walked over to her, his eyes alight with fury. "You will do as I command! I am the Steward of Gondor!"

"And... that is all well, but I cannot offer you what I do not have!" she shot back, matching his glare.

Denethor grabbed her gown's sleeve, pulling her close to him. "You listen here, girl! I will not allow my city to fall into ruin. I will do whatever it takes to succeed in overthrowing the Dark Lord. He is mustering an army far greater than any other is, and we cannot allow him to succeed in destroying the world of men. My son..." His voice dropped, his gaze looking away from her. "My son, Boromir has left Gondor for a place called Imladris. Now that he is gone, my men do not have a worthy captain. That is why I need you! You _will_ tell me all that I wish to know. Do you understand?"

Victoria pulled away from his grip. "As sad as your story appears to be, I CANNOT HELP YOU!"

"How dare you raise your voice at me!" Denethor shouted. "Guards, take this lady to the chamber I have made ready for her. Keep a sentry at the door. I do not want her causing any mischief."

Two guards came to either side of Victoria and by clutching both her arms, led her away from the steward. Once again, Victoria felt the horrible sickness of panic rising from within her. Tears stung her eyes, blurring the way before her. Her heart started beating rapidly, her breathing increasing to small gasps. She was having a panic attack. The quick breaths caused her arms to start tingling from lack of oxygen; little colourful dots appeared in her vision. The guards became aware of her state and sat her down on a chair in the hallway.

"My lady," one said, holding her steady, "are you well?"

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Sick?"

"I feel like vomiting."

Both men looked at each other with concern, before nodding and lifting her back up. "Your room is not far away."

Victoria groaned at the sudden movement, clutching her stomach. Her head was painfully sore as her vision slowly returned. Just as the guards opened her chamber door, Victoria ran over to the arched window and threw up over it. She coughed, gasping for breath. The guard who had spoken to her walked over to her side, rubbing her back.

"My companion has been sent away to find the physician," he said.

Victoria spat the remaining vile from her mouth, straightening herself. "I need to rinse my mouth."

He nodded, fetching a goblet of water from the table. "I am Boron, my lady."

"Victoria," she answered, rinsing her mouth and spitting it back out the window, not particularly caring that people below were witnessing the whole event with disbelief. She warily sat down on the wooden seat by the bed, feeling tears swelling in her eyes again.

Boron kneeled down, his armour clinking as he did. "Lord Denethor speaks that you will give us hope."

"Yeah, well he has it all mixed up," Victoria said slowly. She turned to Boron. "I don't mean to be the bearer of bad news, but I am not what that man says I am. I know nothing of anything that could save your people. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Boron's gaze dropped to the stone floor. "Maybe the knowledge my lord seeks is buried deep within you. Perhaps if you think hard enough, it will come to you."

Victoria chuckled. "I am afraid not. I come from a family where no one has weapons, save for kitchen knives. I have a brother who is a doctor, and a sister who has only just graduated high school. My mother is a retired science teacher, and my father is a driving school instructor. There is nothing controversial about my family."

"I am not entirely sure about all of those professions, but I must warn you – Lord Denethor will not give up. He is a very stubborn man; he will get from you what he wants."

Victoria shrugged. "Even if he tortured me, threatened me to death, still I would not be able to give him the answers he desires."

Boron sighed sadly. "These are bad times, my lady. I am afraid what you say is not good enough." He stood up. "You will have until tomorrow morning to decide what you shall say to my lord. I bid you a good day." Boron bowed and exited the chamber.

Once he was gone, Victoria threw the goblet of water across the room in anger. Damn this situation! The sudden adrenaline in her body caused her to stand up with fury; she wanted to throw something else! She threw the jug of water out of the water; it clanged down below, spilling all the water. Victoria then turned on the chair she was sitting in. In a rage, she picked it up and tossed that out of the window. Then the tapestries of the walls were next to be thrown out. She was doing this for two good reasons – she was _very _angry, and she wanted to point out that being in a closed room was not going to prevent her from causing mischief. She kicked over the bedside table - the candles flying across the room. She jumped up in an attempt to bring down the chandelier, but that failed miserably. She screamed with rage, flopping onto the bed, screaming into a pillow.

Just like a child, she screamed and cried until she passed out, not aware that several guards came into her room after reports were given to the steward that furniture was being tossed out of her window. They left her be, save for one guard, Boron, deciding to remain in the chamber at the door to keep watch. While he sat there, he found this woman to be quite... odd. He had never known a grown woman to cause such a tantrum before – he had a feeling Gondor was in for a surprise.


	4. Chapter 4

Victoria slowly opened her eyes, feeling the warm rays of the sunlight resting on her back. She groaned aloud, rolling onto her back and squinting as the sun beamed into her eyes. "God, damn it!"

"My lady."

Victoria froze, remembering quite well she had fallen asleep whilst she was _alone._ She ever so slowly sat up, glaring at the man who had escorted her back to her room yesterday – Boron. "What are you doing in here?"

"You appeared to have quite a tantrum last night," Boron replied, standing up from his seat. "I was sent in here to keep guard."

"Oh... yeah, that," she mumbled. "I usually have better behaviour."

Boron pointed at the tray of food next to her bed. "You must eat and dress quickly, for my lord wishes to speak with you in an hour's time."

Victoria groaned again, reaching over to drink the water. "You mean he wishes to interrogate me."

"Not necessarily," Boron answered. "My lord is a generous man, a good lord to serve. However, it appears your way of speaking and your lack of respect towards him has led to your mind being clouded."

Victoria frowned. "What you just spoke was a complete mouthful! You were in the hall when he grabbed me by the arm."

"You were not showing sufficient respect."

"Okay then, what is sufficient respect in his eyes?"

Boron sighed warily. He had been up nearly all night. "You must curtsey entering and leaving his presence, no excuses! If he offers you his hand, you must kiss the ring, which is on it. Always stand in his presence, unless permitted otherwise, and always answer his questions truthfully."

"I have to remember all that?" Victoria exclaimed. "Hell, I even forget my own grandmother's birthday yearly!"

"It is nothing too difficult," he replied. "If everyone else is able comply with these rules, then I do not see how you could find it tricky."

Victoria turned away and pulled a face. She walked over to the dressing screen and started to dress for the day ahead. "Hey, Boron."

"My lady."

Victoria popped her head out from the other side of the screen. "I am in need to your assistance."

Boron's face paled. "My assistance?"

"Yeah, I have to get this darn corset tightened, can you help me, please."

"My lady, I really must protest! That is a woman's job."

Victoria rolled her eyes. "Just get over here, now!"

Very reluctantly, Boron slowly stepped behind the screen, trying to keep his eyes on the back of her corset. Her dark hair had been tied up, revealing the softness of her skin. He felt his stomach flutter, averting his eyes away and back to the strings.

"Yup, that is tight enough," she said, clutching her stomach. "Now you have to tie it up just as tightly to keep it in place." Once he had completed the task he found far too intimate, he stepped back, away from the screen, keeping his back to her. Victoria finished dressing, sitting on a stool to pull up her knee-high stockings, and fastening her shoes. In some ways, her footwear and socks reminded her of her school years. Looking in the mirror, she brushed down her only gown, and stepped into Boron's view.

Boron nodded at her. "Very suitable."

She smiled gratefully. "I do not know who to say this to, but ever since I arrived here in Gondor, this is the first time I have felt so nervous that my knees are weak. Not even being kidnapped and forced to wear these garments scared me as much as what I am about to do."

"It must be frightening for you, my lady. Nevertheless, if you take my advice, you should do fine this morning."

Victoria frowned with nerves. "Well, with no further ado, let us go and be... nice!"

Boron led her down many corridors, whilst two guards followed them in their shiny-silver armour. She felt like a prisoner being escorted to a trial. Then again, what difference was there between going to trial and facing the grumpy old steward who was in a desperate need of a haircut! Boron stopped before a large oak door and knocked loudly three times. A middle-aged man opened the door, stepping aside.

"You may precede in, my lady," Boron said, moving out of her way.

"Do I have to go in alone?" Victoria whispered, her eyes darting between Boron and the man holding the door open.

"You have no other choice," he replied in a low voice. He looked quickly into the room. "Another word of warning: the steward does not like waiting."

Rolling her eyes, Victoria entered the room, and turning to her left, she saw a large black desk with the steward sitting behind it, writing with a feather. A feather! Victoria tightened her mouth to stop from smiling. Haha, quills! She thought, highly amused. Lord Denethor closed the book he was writing in, and placed away his quill back in the ink bottle. He stared up at her, an eyebrow arched.

"Oh," she breathed, curtseying, for she had temporarily forgotten.

"Lady Victoria," Denethor said curtly, "I hope your past behaviour has left you with humiliation."

"Mmm, no not really," she replied, darting her eyes up to the ceiling. "What about your behaviour? If I recall correctly, it was _you_ who had become physical."

Denethor eyed her strictly. "Once again, you twist the matter back to me. It is you who is under question, not I."

"Look," she said, taking a seat in front of the desk, not particularly caring that she had not received permission. "I stand by what I said yesterday – I cannot offer you any help regarding weapons. I have absolutely no knowledge at all. I don't know what else I can say to convince you."

"The reason why I do not believe you is because _you_ were brought here. If you were not of any use, then the device would have looked you over."

"The device," Victoria said, sounding it out, "is that what we are calling it now? How is it that you know so much about this Dark Lord, yet you sit here on the good side? Or is there something you're not telling your people?"

"How dare you!" Denethor spat, rising quickly. "How dare you insinuate that I consort with the enemy!"

Victoria groaned aloud into her hands. Here we go again. She stood up, her hands firmly on her hips. "Listen here pal! I don't care who you are, or who you're consorting _or _sleeping with, I just want to get the hell out of here! And if you find me so... horrible, rude, inconsiderate, then why don't you let me leave this messed up place. That way you will be rid of one problem, because a problem is all I am ever going to be... ask my ex-boyfriend!"

Denethor stared at her with rage for several moments, not quite sure how to respond to this infuriating, pretentious, rude, and insufferable woman. The Dark Lord had chosen well if he had expected her to be found by Gondor. Maybe that was His plan after all. The steward's eyes narrowed in thought. Had he missed something in the palantir? Was the Dark Lord toying with him? This woman, could she be a mere diversion? Could there be another person from her time, one who was not so... maddening?

"You will remain here in Gondor," Denethor finally spoke. "You will be placed under Sir Boron's guard until I am able to dig deeper into this great matter. During you stay here, you are not permitted to leave the citadel, nor are you to socialise within the court."

"What court?" she asked, tilting her head.

Denethor closed his eyes, wishing he did not have to deal with her. "Just leave before I take back my kindness towards you."

"Kindness? You call keeping me here under guard as kindness?" she shot back. "You know what would be kind? Letting me go home!"

"Enough!" Denethor roared. "Guard!"

Boron entered the room with the snap of a finger, fully at attention. "Remove this woman from my sight. Have her under house arrest in her chamber until I see fit."

Victoria opened her mouth in protest, but Boron's strong grip under her arm had her being pulled out of the room. "What a prick!"

"Be silent!" Boron hissed at her, continuing to pull her further down the corridor. Once they had returned back to her room, Boron held her by the shoulders against the door. "Have you lost your senses?"

"Have you?" she asked. "You're the one holding me up against the freakin' wall!"

"Mind your language, you are a woman!"

Victoria glared at him, and used all her force to push him back. "I am not just a _woman_! I am also a person who has equal rights to men! Just because you find yourselves all high and mighty because you tend to be physically stronger, and have more body hair..."

Boron was baffled. "Please..."

"No!" Victoria screamed. "I have had enough! If you truly care for your lord's sanity and yours as well, then get me the hell out of here! Get me out of this city!"

"I will not go against my lord's command," Boron replied.

Victoria closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly. "You are an idiot, truly a big, honking idiot. Please, I have never met such a lord's boy." She slumped down to the stone floor, bringing her legs up to her chest. "Boron, you have no idea what I am going through."

Boron knelt down in front of her, resting an arm on the handle of his sword. "You are not making it any easier on yourself."

Victoria merely shrugged. "I am a very strong-willed, passionate person. I have always been so. Everyone is born and raised with faults; I do not see why I should be any different. Anyway, I do not belong here, wherever I am. You know, technically I don't believe in magic or time travel... or any of this! My time is so different, so much more... advanced. You have no idea what you are missing out on; electricity, cars, computers, phones, planes... television.' She shrugged again. "I cannot help this place, nor help better your weapons, and honestly, if I ever could give you what you need to build these weapons, your people are not ready to use them. Hell, some of the people from my time aren't even ready to use them. We have created some terrible weapons that a lot of people are not proud of, yet there are an equal number who do feel proud. Our societies are mixed with thoughts on our artillery, and how we should use them. It can cause tension, and other stuff. Trust me; you do not want to get involved with my time. You are not ready."

Boron nodded silently. "Those are the words you should have spoken to Lord Denethor."

"Yeah, well I don't think he would have believed me. I like you more than him anyway."

Boron smiled, remaining silent for several minutes, pondering. "You truly do want to return home?"

Victoria closed her eyes, nodding. "More than anything."

He sighed deeply. "Then I shall help you escape."

Her eyes widened. "R-r... really? You mean that? Can it be done?"

Boron chuckled. "One question at a time, please, but yes, it can be done. It will not be easy, but I should be able to come up with a plan." He stood up. "I shall have to go and make arrangements, talk to a few servants that I trust. I shall not be long; stay here." His last words were firm, an order.

Victoria's heart was beating fast at the idea of a possible escape. Both excitement and fear dawned on her. She remembered riding up through the city; it was so tall and large. Surely, the steward would discover she was gone before she even managed to get out of the city all together and worst of all – she had only just realised – she had placed all her confidence in a guard who was sworn to serve the steward. She had only just met the darn guy! What if he purposely offered to help her escape to trap her, and in fact, he had gone off to inform the steward of their conversation. Her fears – well part of them – were relinquished once Boron returned late in the afternoon. He was holding some black material over his arm.

"This is a cloak worn by the servants of the citadel," he said, handing it to her. "At 10:00 pm, a woman named Eleth will knock on your door and lead you out of the citadel and down to the sixth level via the servants' entrance..."

"Wait!" Victoria held up her hands. "I've been thinking... maybe this isn't a very good idea. I mean, where am I to go after I leave the city?"

Boron sighed. "That I do not know. Lady Victoria, I can get your out of the citadel, but then you are on your own. I am already taking a big risk as it is."

"What about this Eleth?"

He hesitated. "Eleth is my... sister."

Victoria's eyes widened. "Your _sister_! Surely you don't want to get her involved."

"Eleth is a strong woman, she knows what to do."

Victoria frowned. "I can't go through with this."

Boron held her by the shoulders. "You _must_. If I have learned anything from you, it is that you are speaking the truth; you are of no use to Gondor, you never have been. As much as I love my liege, I know what he is capable of these days. He has grown ruthless, and eventually once he realises that you are of no use to him, well... let us say he does not keep things that are of no use to him in his presence. Take his son, Captain Faramir for example. He has been sent to Ithilien with the rangers, and has not been seen in the citadel for many, many months, all because my lord does not see him as useful as his other son, Lord Boromir."

Victoria frowned, finding her mind rather slow to absorb all Boron had just said, probably because the steward's sons had weird sounding names, and did he just name a place Ith-lien... It-ilien... what?

"Umm... your suggesting that the steward is eventually going to... to kill me?"

Boron frowned deeply. "I would not go that extreme, no. He would most likely have you removed to a noble family as a servant, or he would have you humiliated in public. My lord would never execute a woman, he may be harsh, but not _that_ harsh."

Victoria swallowed hard. "Very well, there goes that idea of remaining here. What should I do once I am out of the citadel?"

Boron pulled out four golden coins from his pocket. "This should be enough for you to survive the public life on Minas Tirith for a few days. Eleth is going to give you some of her old clothes, so you can change and appear different. The servants cloak _must _be disposed of once you have left the citadel. Burn the cloak along with the gown you are currently wearing. After changing clothes, use your own good judgement, and try to keep minimal eye contact from others. Use these coins to buy some food, and perhaps even a blanket to keep you warm at night. To get out of the city, you are going to have to pay a tradesman to transport you out of the city. They will not ask any questions, and if you pay them enough, they usually do not report you."

"Usually."

Boron half shrugged. "It is a gamble, I know, but it is the only way you are going to be able to get out of this city undetected."

"Where will this tradesman take me?"

"It depends on his destination. Some travel to Lossarnach, others to Osgiliath. Wherever you end up, just ask the tradesman to point you into the direction of Dol Amroth. If you stick to a trustworthy path, you should remain safe enough."

Victoria mutely nodded.

"There is another thing," Boron started. "My lord is going to be very displeased when he discovers you are gone, so to protect myself from his wrath, I am going to have to ask you to inflict some sort of injury to my body."

"What!" Victoria shouted. "I don't want to hurt you!"

"All I am asking is for you..." He walked over to the table and picked up the candlestick, "to hit me with this on the back of my head."

Victoria stared blankly at him, hoping he was not being serious. Then again, if she disappeared leaving an uninjured guard, questions would be asked of him. "This is gonna suck balls, but okay."

"I will not take it personally, and if it is any consolidation for you, I have had concussions before. I know what to expect."

"So... this is the plan," she said, biting her bottom lip. "This is the plan."

Boron nodded. "This is the plan."

"Honestly, what made you change your mind?" she asked softly.

"The words you spoke to me before made me pity you. There was such sadness in your voice, and my heart ached to see you so miserable. I... I believe you are generally a nice woman, and I would hate for anything terrible to happen to you under my lord's command. It also occurred to me, that if I had become stranded in your time, I too would do everything in my power to return home. You must be going through agony, and your family must miss you deeply."

Victoria smiled at him. "That is the sweetest, sweetest thing anybody here has ever said to me." She hugged him tightly, her arms tight around his back. It was a first for her, to embrace somebody wearing armour. She found it rather... well let's just say, awkward. Then again, she soon realised that the path laid out for her was going to continue to lead to more awkward situations.


	5. Chapter 5

It was late in the evening as Victoria frowned, holding a silver candlestick up at Boron. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, my lady."

Victoria crunched up her face, not quite ready herself. "Okaaay... turn around." Boron obliged, not seeming at all distraught. She took two hesitant swings, attempting to aim somewhere in the back of his head. She wasn't sure which place would be better... was there a difference? She wasn't sure. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, held it up, and swung it down until it connected with the guard's head. She heard a thump in front of her; she opened her eyes and saw Boron was lying unconscious.

"Oh, for the love of sweet Jesus!" she muttered, kneeling down to check his pulse. Alive, he was alive. She let out a huge sigh of relief, placing the candlestick down gently.

A soft knock caught her attention. She stiffened, but found the courage to get up and slowly open the door. A dark haired woman stood outside, wearing a black cloak. "Lady Victoria?"

"You must be Eleth," Victoria said, slipping out of the door. She didn't want this very young woman to see her unconscious brother. "Thank you so much for helping me tonight."

Eleth only nodded, her braided hair letting strands fall out in front of her face. "We must hurry."

Victoria followed her through the silent and dark corridors, trying to fasten her own cloak up. They reached the back entrance ten minutes later, where they came to a gate that led down a long flight of stairs. "There are guards at the foot of these stairs, but if we keep our hoods up, and mind our own business, they will not take a second glance."

"Okay," Victoria breathed, feeling her heart starting to beat a hell of a lot faster than it should be capable of doing.

Down the stairs they went, side by side. Victoria descended, letting her hand run smoothly down the stone railing. As they reached the end, two guards were leaning against the wall on either side of the stairs; obviously, danger or intruders barely came this way. It was so nerve-racking for Victoria; she kept her eyes on the stone ground, as they descended off the last step, seeing Eleth turn left through an archway. They past the guards unnoticed, or without suspicion, for Eleth came to a halt after a few turns, and grabbed Victoria's hand, leading her into a small building.

"Where are we?" Victoria asked, removing her hood.

Eleth followed suit. "A small workers hut. I left my bag here this afternoon; it contains the clothes you will be changing into." She knelt down beside the front door and dragged a bag from under a table. She untied the bag's lacing, revealing some attire. "These are your new clothes. You will have to change in there." She pointed to a door located on the opposite wall. "After you have changed, give me your old gown and cloak and I will have them burned in the kitchen fires."

Victoria entered the other room, finding it cramped and dusty. She sighed and unpinned her cloak, letting it fall to the ground carelessly. The new dress she was to change into was of a laurel green texture, with a long thread of thin coarse rope to tie up at the front. She quickly changed and stuffed her old gown and cloak into the bag and tied it up. She placed the four gold coins Boron had given her into the gown's only pocket. She then left the room, coughing from all the dust.

"Come," Eleth said, grabbing the bag and throwing it back under the table. They left the workers hut and stepped out into the silent street. "You are currently on the sixth level. If I were in your situation, I would not delay any further in this city. I know my brother may have said otherwise, but trust me; the steward will have his men out looking for you the moment he realises you are gone. It is almost midnight, so use the cover of darkness to make your way unnoticed down to the first level. Once you reach the great gates leading into the first level, turn down the first street on your left; that is where you will find all the tradesmen with their wagons and carts."

"Right," Victoria breathed. "I can do this."

"It is not too difficult to make it down the levels; just keep following this main street all the way down. There are no side turns – nothing. Also, do not let anyone lead you astray."

"Okay." Those last words sounded like something her mother would say right before she would venture out for a night of partying.

"Good luck."

"Thank you, Eleth," she said, truly meaning it. "Oh, and thank you brother for me again."

Eleth nodded, smiling. "I am going to go and check on him now."

"Good idea," she whispered, slowly walking away. She waved once more before starting on her winding journey down the many levels.

Okay, she thought to herself; she was truly on her own now. She had to be smart and streetwise. At first, she moved along at a normal pace, feeling like the stillness of the night was actually a bad thing; if she walked too fast, someone might suspect something. The worst thing was – and nobody bothered to tell her this beforehand – was that every now and then there were soldiers standing guard in small alcoves along the street. At first she made eye contact with all of them, some frowned at seeing a young woman roaming the streets at midnight, other kept straight faces, not particularly bothered by her presence. So she did what she only knew she could do best - she kept walking. It must have taken her two hours before she realised she was still not at the bottom level. She began to wonder if she was going in circles, but then technically she rather was. That made her laugh aloud; she covered her mouth, trying not to catch the attention of the guards too much. She approached another guard to her right and decided it was time to be streetwise. She walked over to him, standing a few metres away.

"Excuse me?" she said in a small voice.

"Miss?"

"I am wondering what level I am on," she answered, clasping her hands in front of her.

"You are on the second level... why are you wandering around so late?" he asked.

"Oh... I was visiting some friends on the... fifth level and I... well I stupidly decided to return home, not realising what time it actually was." Well it sounded good enough in her head.

"If you are making your way to the first level, you are almost there," he replied.

"Thanks!" Feeling ever so slightly panicked by having to talk to someone, she turned on her heels and walked briskly away from him. Turning the last bend, she let out a breath of relief that she had not realised she had been holding in.

So she had finally reached the first level, and now that she thought of it, her feet really hurt from all that walking. Only a few more metres to go, she thought, seeing the first turn to her left. Before she turned, she peered around the corner with only her head poking out. Down the lane, there was an open courtyard with a stable, and many wagons and carts filling up the courtyard. She could not see anyone, but a light above her from a window high up made her think the tradesmen were sleeping indoors. She decided to go and wait for them in the courtyard. The horses in the stables did not make a sound as she entered the courtyard and sat down on the only wooden bench. She sighed, rubbing her feet. It was so quiet in this city; she was not used to any city being so still and silent. It freaked her out! She kept thinking she was in some horror movie and any moment now Jack the Ripper was going to make his grand entrance. Damn her imagination! She moaned softly and lay down on the bench, hugging her knees.

Despite the situation, Victoria was very tired and exhausted. She wanted to sleep but the gown she wore was thin and allowed the cool air to soak into her skin. She rubbed her arms, trying to get warm, but nothing helped. So she just laid there, her eyes staring at the wall on the opposite side of the courtyard. She frowned, hearing a noise she had not taken any notice to before. It was a low rumbling noise – like thunder in the distance. But then she remember hearing it all the time during her stay in the citadel, and even walking down the levels she heard it, but took no notice of it. Then she remembered the conversation she had with the corsairs, and seeing those black clouds hovering over a place called Mordor. She started to tremble, feeling homesick, and she wondered what her friends and family were doing at this moment. She had been travelling in Fiji with her family, as her cousin was getting married there in the city of Suva. Not that her family was of Fiji origin, but the man her cousin was marrying was Fijian. He was very nice, always good company. The day she had disappeared had been the day before the actual wedding.

By now, Victoria was softly crying, not enjoying the situation she found herself being in. This was not the situation anyone should be thrown into! It sucked big time! The worst thing about it was that it should not even be possible. She kept telling herself that repeatedly, but it did nothing to change the scenario. The hard reality was that it was definitely happening, and she would have to endure it.

She must have fallen asleep, for she found herself being shaken awake by an old man wearing dark brown and black garments. Victoria's eyes widened seeing that it was daylight. "Help me."

The man raised his brows, and laughed. "What is your name, miss?"

"Victoria." Oh, she was an idiot! Just as those words left her mouth, she realised she should have used an alibi. Well, too late now.

"Odd name," he replied. "I am Berion, and what brings you to the tradesmen courtyard?"

"Well, I would like to get out of the city," she said rather slowly. Her head was pounding from sleeping on an extremely hard piece of wooden bench.

Berion nodded, eyeing her curiously. "What have you done? Gone off and gotten yourself pregnant?"

Victoria blinked hard. What? "Oh... yes, how did you know?"

Berion laughed. "All you girls come to us for ways to escape from you demanding families."

She nodded. "W-will you take me out of this city?"

"Do you have money?"

Victoria took out all four gold coins. Berion nodded appreciatively, taking all the coins. "I am travelling to Lossarnach."

"Good enough for me."

"Come on then," he said, as she stood up. Her stomach growled, which caused Berion to laugh again. "I have some bread you can eat on the journey."

Berion helped her onto a cart that had many barrels tightly fixed with thick rope. "What type of tradesman are you?"

The older man finished saddling the horse. "I trade an assortment of wines to the other fiefdoms."

Victoria wondered how many different fiefdoms there were in this country. She didn't have much time to think on it, as Berion threw her a chunk of bread that looked a day old, then the cart started to move. She sat up near him, squeezed into a small area that was the only free space.

"Um... Berion, will they ask you any questions about me as we leave?"

"Don't worry yourself, miss," he said carelessly. "They only ask questions on the way into the city, not out."

That didn't quite reassure her. She hugged her knees, while trying to stay warm, and avoid looking at the people roaming around the streets. She noticed her surroundings soon enough; she was back in the front courtyard of the first level; she had remembered from arriving here with the prince not too long ago. Berion halted in front of the gates and handed papers to a man who appeared to be the head guard. Victoria peered at him, hoping he would not raise any questions about her presence. When the guard looked up at her, her heart skipped a beat, and her face reddened.

"Companion?" the guard asked.

"She is my niece," Berion said matter-of-factly. "I am taking her back to her family in Lossarnach."

The guard bought it, and admitted them through the city gates, out into the open plains. Victoria closed her eyes with relief, leaning her head on her knees. She had done it! She had done it! They would not be able to bother her anymore now.

**...**

Denethor paced his study, infuriated with the guard, Boron for succumbing himself to being knocked out by a petty little woman who behaved less like a girl. How dare she disobey him! He was the Steward of Gondor, and yet she defied him and left the citadel under the cover of night. What made him all the more curious is to how she had been able to accomplish it. All the guards had been questioned, and it was from the knights guarding the servants' entrance who spoke of two women leaving the citadel, and only one returning. So it was a servant whom he would be questioning, and a woman at that. They had sworn it was two women, even though they could not see their faces. Yet women had finer figures, and walked lighter than men, not having to wear heavy boots.

The door to his study opened and his youngest son, Faramir entered, bowing before his father.

"Faramir," Denethor said, walking over to him. His son had been recalled from his duties in Ithilien to muster troops in Osgiliath. "I have a new task for you."

Faramir remained silent, knowing it was best to refrain from speaking.

"There is a young woman of great importance to me, and she has just escaped the citadel. By now, she is either lost in the lower levels or has somehow found a way outside our walls. I have knights scouring each alley, laneway, and building, making their way down the levels. But I sincerely believe that she has made it out of the city itself. Someone helped her escape last night, and I am assuming that person also told her how to get out of the city."

"The tradesmen," Faramir muttered.

"Yes, the tradesmen are renowned for herding people outside of the city walls." Denethor walked over to his son. "Faramir, you are to use your skills as an Ithilien ranger to find this woman. Take your men with you, the more skilled trackers you have, the better. I want you to hunt her down!"

"Once I have her, what are my next instructions?"

"Bring her back to me," his father answered. "Do not fall for her stupidity, or sharp tongue. You will bind her; put a gag in her mouth if you have to, but catch her at all costs."

"I will not fail you, Father," Faramir replied.

**And so the hunt begins.**

* * *

><p><strong>...<strong>

_For those wondering what shade of green Laurel Green is, it is a hue of greenish gray._


	6. Chapter 6

Bumpedy, bump... bumpedy, bump...

Victoria groaned as she attempted sleep along the very bouncy road. They had been travelling at a slow pace for an entire day, no conversation, no stopping, and least of all, no smoothness at all! If hell were real, she was in it, she had decided many hours ago. Her body was aching all over from the roughness of travel, her eyes were sagging from the lack of sleep, and her brain felt as if it were rattling away. This sort of travel could not be good for one's health.

"The holes are from the summer rain we received two months ago," Berion said, noticing her discomfort.

"What month is it?" Victoria asked warily.

Berion laugh aloud. "Not a daughter of education I assume? What lass do not know what month it is?"

"One who has no sense of life," Victoria mumbled.

"Mmmm... well it is September, little one," he continued. "Do you know what year it is?"

"Uhhh..."

Berion turned around, bewildered. "Say, what family life were you raised in? By your clothing, I assume you are not all together poor. A poor sense of judgement for your condition, however."

"Well... umm... my parents did not take much notice of me," Victoria stumbled out, not entirely sure what life was like in this time.

"No doubt the reason why you are now carrying a bastard," Berion noted. "What are your hopes once we arrive at Lossarnach?"

"To make my way to the sea," Victoria confirmed. It had been her plan all along; to find her way back t the beach where she emerged.

"Well, that will take quite a long journey, little one," Berion admitted. "You will have to bribe plenty more tradesmen to make that expedition."

Victoria groaned. "I don't have any more money."

"Hmmm. Quite a pickle you are in. You may have to remain in Lossarnach for a time and work."

His words made Victoria groan even louder. But before he could respond, there were heavy thuds approaching them from behind. Berion turned to look behind and frowned deeply. His facial features made Victoria's heart skip a beat, her stomach receiving its fair share of butterflies.

"What is it?" she dared ask.

"I am not sure," he replied, slowing his cart down and pulling it over to the side of the road. "They may just pass us."

But they did not pass them; they came to a sudden holt on the road, that dust tore up around them, causing Victoria to cough roughly as the dirty air filled her lungs. Her eyes became teary from small brown particles infiltrating her eyes, which she had to wipe them numerous times before she noticed several horsed men surrounding the cart.

"Hail," one horsed man said to Berion. "To where do you travel, good sir?"

"Lossarnach, my lord," Berion answered.

The man's gaze roamed over to where Victoria sat, huddled up with her knees to her chest. "Who travels with you?"

Berion shot her a serious glare. "What business is that of yours, my lord?"

"My father, Lord Denethor has commission me to find a young woman matching the description who is travelling with you, sir."

Berion looked back at her, frowning. "What is the offence, my lord?"

"She is to be returned to the citadel at my father's request. Her offence is leaving the city without permission."

Victoria gulped, momentarily closing her eyes. This was bad, very, very bad. In a frenzy, she began to search her surroundings and noticed scattered trees to the south, with a large mountain range looming in the very far distance. She had to make a run for it. Turning back to look at the men, she knew that was very unlikely, as she had her feet; they had horses. She moaned with worry, not wanting to go back to the city, least of all back to that horrible steward.

"Victoria."

She spun her head to face Berion, who had sharply said her name. "You selfish girl! You brought trouble to me!"

"Don't blame me!" she hissed, turning her attention to the men before her. "I don't want to go back."

Faramir, who had been the leader of the horsed men, softened his expression once he noticed how afraid she appeared. "You are in no trouble, my lady."

Victoria scoffed at that. "Tell that to your steward!"

"My father means to disrespected," Faramir replied calmly. "He only wishes you safe, and these times have caused our lands to become quite unsafe."

"I don't care," Victoria pressed. "Surely Lossarnach is not unsafe. Let me go there, please."

Faramir slowly shook his head. "I have been given my orders, my lady. I am to escort you back to the city."

Victoria blinked. "No."

Faramir frowned, taken aback by her stubbornness. "My lady-"

"No!" Victoria said much loudly. "I hate your stupid city and stupid steward. I hate this stupid country and your stupid Dark Lord. I hate all your stupid customs – I hate this entire time... world... whatever! I HATE THIS SITUATION!"

Faramir's brows rose considerably high at her harsh words. "I have shown you no disrespect, my lady. Therefore you should not show me or my land and people lack of respect."

"You are not being respectful to me by complying to my wishes," Victoria retorted.

"I could say the same about you, my lady," Faramir replied calmly.

"I am not returning with you or your so called... macho companions." Victoria laughed nervously. "You really think they are intimidating? Look at them!" Faramir and Berion turned their attention to the dirt and mud covered riders, who wore unpolished silver armour, and had their helmets removed, eyeing the woman before them strangely.

"They are men of honour, my lady," Faramir said, feeling heat rise within him.

Victoria stood up in the cart, a little unbalanced at first. "I know what you men are like. You would not dare hurt a woman - an innocent woman at that. If my only crime is leaving the city without permission, then may I remind you that if your people are the so-called good guys in these lands, then your laws must allow freewill to all those harmlessly travelling."

"Our laws state you must follow the compliances of the steward of these lands," Faramir replied.

"Then I should remind you that I am to a degree a visitor to your lands, and therefore are not entirely subject to his commands. Am I a guest or not?"

"You are a guest to my father's lands and city," Faramir answered.

"Then a guest is allowed to leave whenever they choose." Victoria folded her arms, smiling.

"Unfortunately, my lady, you are not a guest under usual circumstances."

"But I am still a guest," she pressed. "I will not have you take me back to the city against my will. That would be kidnapping."

Faramir sighed, wondering if it were not better just to let her go. Surely, this woman would only anger his father more than his usual rants. Ever since Boromir had left for Imladris, his father had become even more cold and unreasonable.

"Please, do not make my task more difficult than I am already finding it to be."

Victoria noticed how uncomfortable he really was. She temporarily took pity on him, but felt anger swell up again. "I am not going."

"I think Captain Faramir has already established that," Berion muttered more to himself.

"Well if he has already established that, then why is her still here?" Victoria snapped back at him. "If you want me to come with you, you are going to have to physically make me."

Faramir closed his eyes, sighing once more. "If I am left with no other choice, then I will be inclined to do so."

"You are going to lower yourself to your father's standards?"

Faramir shot her a deadly glare; one that he hardly ever used in the presence of good, common people. But this woman... she was stubborn and infuriating. He had never met the likes of her before!

Victoria noticed the inner debate Faramir was having with him, and took the opportunity to make – a rather stupid – run for it. She bent down and ungraciously jumped off the cart, mercifully landing on her two feet. With the long gown flapping around her legs, making it rather uncomfortable to run in, she sped off south, towards the trees. She knew the last time she attempted something like this; she was chased up a tree and had been caught nevertheless. Perhaps that Prince Erchirion was in the area. Though, she had a inkling that the prince was on the same side as this Captain Faramir and would no doubt assist him in catching her. She heard shouts coming from behind her and the neighing of horses.

"Foolish girl!" she heard Berion shout. "You shall get what you deserve if you keep this up!"

She continued to run. She had no other options. Thunderous hooves approached her from behind, making the adrenaline in her body causing her to run faster.

"Cease this folly!" she heard Faramir yell at her. She dared not turn around in fear of tripping in the process. She had to get away.

She felt someone grab hold of her gown by the shoulder, causing her to lose her footing, trip, and end up being dragged several metres. She screamed with fright as she plummeted hard to the ground once she had been let go. She groaned, realising the sleeves of her gown had been torn by the impact of her fall, revealing grazed arms. It stung like all hell as blood began seeping out from the tiny cuts between the rough skins. She stood back up, her stance uneven as she found her line of sight. The horsemen had her encircled, Faramir sitting upon his horse, a hand resting on his thigh.

"This is madness," was all he said, eyeing her cautiously. "We do not wish to hurt you."

Victoria made an attempt to get out of the circle, but the horsemen closed in the circle, making it impossible.

"Let me go!"

"I am afraid I cannot do that," Faramir replied. "I have tried to be reasonable with you; I have been polite, courteous, and respectful of your distancing from us. But this has gone too far. I cannot allow you to freely march away from me." 

Knowing she was indeed cornered, Victoria slumped down to the ground, nursing her grazed arms as she began crying. Her shoulders shook and her sobs became louder for all to hear. She heard someone dismount and approach her. She took a peek and saw Faramir was kneeling besides her, his arm resting gently on her shoulder.

"No harm shall come to you once you return to the city," Faramir said kindly. "You have my word."

"I don't care for your word. I just want to go home." She wailed even louder, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. "I want to go home."

Faramir frowned with pity, seeing just how scared and lost this young woman appeared. Part of him wanted to let her go, let he find her own way home. Then again, he had a duty to his father and realm, for he was the steward's son. That and the lands were no longer safe anymore. It would be highly improper of him to allow her to travel on her own.

"Forgive me, but I must take you back to Minas Tirith," he said at last.

"No," she sobbed, wiping her face. "I'm not going."

Faramir closed his eyes tightly. "This is not a request, but an order."

"Screw your orders," she said, glaring at him. "Don't try and play the sympathy game with me. I don't fall for that nonsense!"

"This is not a game," he tried to reason.

An idea hit her hard in the brain. She smiled within, thinking up of another way to escape from these persistent men. Swallowing hard, she slowly looked up into Faramir's eyes.

"You promise not to hurt me?" she asked quietly.

Faramir smiled, feeling success at last. "I promise you full heartedly, my lady."

Wiping her face on her sleeve, she nodded. "I will go back with you on one condition: I want to ride behind you on your horse. I trust only you."

Reasonable, Faramir thought inwardly. "As you wish, my lady."

Victoria smiled, praying to whatever God of these lands that her plan would be successful. She accepted the captain's hand and he helped her stand up. She brushed down her gown, and was led over to a tall, brown horse with a black saddle and reins.

"I don't have much experience on horses," Victoria admitted, feeling nervous as Faramir knelt down to help her mount. "It's not a popular activity from my time."

Faramir eyed her curiously. "I would be very much honoured if you would tell me tales of your time."

Victoria felt her heart starting to beat rapidly again as Faramir mounted in front of her, taking the reins. "I can do that after I receive the imposing lecture from that father of yours."

"His intentions are always for the best of his people," Faramir replied, feeling quite defensive towards his father.

"So he never scolds you?"

Faramir did not respond to her question, and instead called out orders for his men to follow his lead back towards the dusty highway. Victoria held onto Faramir's vest thing – she was not sure what to call it. Her mind was racing to make her body gather up all the strength she possessed, for it was going to take all of it for her little body to push this man of his horse. She closed her eyes, attempting to calm herself down. This was neither the time nor place to have another panic attack. Gripping his clothing tighter until her knuckles became white, she slowly leaned back, and with all the force she had, pushed her body forward, whacking herself into the captain's back. The sudden movement caught Faramir by surprise; he fell forward, still holding onto the reins, he lost his balance and fell head first in line of the horses' neck. Victoria shouted with surprise, finding herself leaning forward, grabbing the reins. Faramir had no choice but to let go and plummet to the ground; his horse gave a great neigh and shifted about from all the commotion. Victoria pulled the reins, trying to get the horse to turn around. It complied after a few attempts, steering back south. She gave the reins a hard flip and the horse sped off at a fast pace through the grassy fields.


End file.
